


Fight the Fat

by MrTyeDye



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: General fiction, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrTyeDye/pseuds/MrTyeDye
Summary: Lynn introduces Lincoln to a new way to exercise.





	Fight the Fat

**Author's Note: This story takes place immediately after the events of "The Loudest Yard".** A stony, uncomfortable silence has passed over Vanzilla as the Loud family was driving home from the ill-fated match between the Royal Woods Roosters and the Hazeltucky Hockers. Normally, this would be Lola and Lana's cue to start a fight, or Lisa's cue to start rambling about all the ways they could die on their way home, or Lynn's cue to start a rousing round of "Auto Attack", but none of the Loud sisters had the courage to say or do anything. All they could do was give the occasional sympathetic glance towards the thoroughly bruised and beaten Lincoln, who was glaring out the window with a contemptuous scowl on his face.

Unfortunately, as the matriarch of the house, Rita had an obligation to tend to her children, and thus had no choice but to break the silence.

"Lincoln, I know you're upset," she said. "But I hope you've learned a valuable lesson from this experience."

This just prompted Lincoln to cross his arms and slouch further into his seat. "Yeah, I've learned that I'm a chump who can't do anything right," he growled. "How's that for valuable?"

"Lincoln, I don't appreciate that attitude," said Lynn Sr.

"All right, then humor me," said Lincoln. "What lesson  _was_ I supposed to learn from this?"

"Well, that it always pays to be honest, and follow through with what you promise to do," said Rita.

"Are you kidding me?!" cried Lincoln. "Do you even remember what happened today after I came clean?"

"Lincoln..." began Rita, only for Lincoln to cut her off.

"I lost the game, I got booed off the field, and my team beat me up." He capped off his statement by punching the window, making an uncomfortably sharp rapping noise. "That's what I got for being honest."

"Well, this whole thing wouldn't have happened if you just exercised with us like we asked you to," chided Lynn Sr.

"And I  _would_ have if I had known that football was my only other choice!"

While all of this was going on, the ten Loud sisters could do little but squirm in their seats, look expectantly out the window and pray for the Loud House driveway to come into view.

"Look, I know I was dragging my feet when you tried to get me to exercise," Lincoln said, his expression softening. "And I'm sorry about that. But you didn't have to humiliate me for it!"

"Lincoln, sweetie, we weren't trying to  _humiliate_  you," said Rita.

"We weren't?" asked Lynn Sr., prompting a dope slap from his wife.

"We just wanted you to be healthier, that's all," said Rita.

"Getting pummeled into the ground isn't healthy," Lincoln grumbled, reassuming his grouchy disposition.

"I know, I know. But we thought-"

"You thought  _what_?" snapped Lincoln. "That you could just throw me onto the field and I'd start wowing everyone, like Lynn always does? Well, I've got news for you; she's the one with the talent, not me. She's a hero, and I'm a zero."

And those were the last words that were spoken for the entire trip: the last ones spoken out loud, at least. Some of the Loud children could hear their parents whispering worriedly to each other as the drive went on. Other than that? Silence. At one point, Lynn tried to put her arm around Lincoln, but her touch caused him to flinch and shove her away- which did nothing to ease her worsening conscience.

How on Earth were they going to make this right?

* * *

At long last, the trip mercifully ended. Usually, there was a routine that every Loud sibling had to follow before entering the house- gather all their belongings, wipe their feet, close the car door behind them- but Lincoln didn't bother with any of that, and nobody seemed inclined to correct him. He just trudged up the stairs (leaving a trail of mud and grass in his wake), walked into his room, slammed the door behind him, and collapsed face-first onto his desk. He didn't even have the energy to clean himself up or tend to his wounds. All he wanted to do was sit there in his unlit room with his head down, moaning and feeling sorry for himself.

And that was exactly what he did, for a good thirty minutes, before he heard one of his sisters carefully creep open the door and let herself in. Even before she spoke, Lincoln was able to discern who it was from the scent of sweat and body spray drifting past his nose.

_Oh, great. Lynn._

"Hey… buddy?" she called.

"Go away, Lynn," whined Lincoln. "I don't deserve to be seen with you."

Lynn let out an exasperated grunt. "Lincoln, come on," she said. "I know today really sucked, but it'll blow over. Give 'em a couple of weeks, and those meatheads on the football team won't even  _remember_ what happened today. They'll be too busy… I don't know, kicking each other in the nuts or whatever boys do for fun."

"I guess," said Lincoln.

"And I really,  _really_ want you to stop beating yourself up over this. I mean, it's just football. There's lots of other stuff that you're good at."

"Oh, yeah?" groaned Lincoln. "Like what?"

Lincoln expected Lynn to do a little hemming and hawing before coming up with an answer, but her response was almost immediate.

"Um, problem solving! Duh!" she said, giving Lincoln a few raps on the noggin. "Lincoln, you're the tightest problem solver I know. Even when you screw up, you always find a way to turn things around in, like, eleven minutes."

"Yeah, okay."

"I'm serious!" cried Lynn. "Like, who came up with a way to get Lori to stop hogging the bathroom?"

This prompted Lincoln to pick his head up off his desk and look her in the eye. "…me?"

"Yuh-huh," said Lynn. "I mean, it was pretty gross, but it worked. And who solved Sharon DeMonay's riddle before anyone else did?"

"Me," said Lincoln, getting out of his chair.

"And who figured out a way to teach Leni how to drive?"

"Me!" exclaimed Lincoln, slamming his fist into his palm.

"That's  _right_." Lynn got up in Lincoln's face and started jabbing him in the chest with her finger. "So I don't want to hear any more of this, 'Wah, wah, woe is me, Lynn's better than me at everything' garbage, because you know damn well that I'm not. Capiche?"

"Capiche," declared Lincoln, trying to match her intensity.

Lynn stepped back, took a deep breath and let it out before continuing. "Okay, good. Time for part two."

"Part two?" asked Lincoln, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah..." Lynn started scratching the back of her head as her gaze wandered away from Lincoln. "See, I kinda promised Mom and Dad that I'd talk to you about-"

"You're going to lecture me for not exercising, aren't you?"

"No!" cried Lynn, as her eyes snapped back towards Lincoln's. "I mean, technically, yes, but... okay, look. I know you're still angry at Mom and Dad for what they did, but fitness  _is_ important. They're not wrong about that."

"Easy for  _you_ to say!" said Lincoln. "You're the family's star athlete!"

"Lincoln…"

"Every time you pick up a sport, you go pro in a week! Of  _course_ exercise is fun for-"

"Lincoln!" snapped Lynn. With just a single word, she shut down Lincoln's rant in an instant. It was rare that she had to raise her voice to him, but when she did, she could stop him on a dime.

"First of all, that last part isn't even true," she said. "Did I ever tell you about the time I tried gymnastics? It was a  _nightmare._ Every time I tried to dismount, I fell on my butt. I got laughed out of the gym."

"Oh, geez," muttered Lincoln, feeling a twinge of guilt for dragging that out of her.

"And second of all, exercise is... um..."

Lynn scratched her chin, racking her brain for the best way to word her argument. "Well, let me put it this way. Remember the time Luna tried to put together that family band for the talent show?"

"Yeah?"

"And remember how she kept telling us that music isn't about being the best?"

"What about it?"

"Lincoln, listen. Exercise is the same way."

Lincoln just gave her a deadpan look.

"I know, I know, that's kind of hard to believe after today, but nobody starts out great at sports. You just have to try your best and push yourself a little harder every day.

"In fact..." A smirk began to tug at Lynn's lips as she threw an arm around Lincoln's shoulder and pulled him close. "...there's something specific I had in mind. It's a workout routine that I think you'll really like."

"Does it involve getting tackled?"

"Nope."

"Does it involve looking at old people in spandex?"

 _"Definitely_  nope."

"Then I'll give it a shot," said Lincoln, returning her smile.

"Great!" said Lynn. "Meet me in the backyard tomorrow at three. And don't forget to stretch beforehand!"

And after a fist bump, the two of them parted ways. Soon afterwards, Lincoln plopped himself down on the bed and drifted into a long, healthy, contented nap. True, he was still pretty sore from the game, and the stench of Lynn's body odor lingered long after she left, but he still slept like a baby because none of that mattered to him. All that mattered was that his cool big sister was going to teach him how to get fit, and have fun doing it. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. \---- 

Lincoln's heart fluttered with anticipation as he bounded down the stairs to meet Lynn, clad in his grey sweat-stained gym uniform from school (which hadn't been washed in a week, but he figured that Lynn wouldn't mind). Since that morning, all he could do was try to guess what, exactly, Lynn had in store for him.  _Well, it's definitely not football, but that doesn't really narrow it down. Could it be badminton? Nah, that doesn't seem like her thing. Wrestling? Nah, she wouldn't do that to me after what I went through yesterday. Then again, she does like to play rough. But she promised that this would be something I'd enjoy, so… _

His heart was still racing by the time he opened the backdoor and stepped outside… and was greeted with a sight that made his turbulent heart sink like a stone. Lynn was standing in the center of the yard clad in a sports bra and shorts, with a pair of rough, leathery crimson boxing gloves on her hands. An identical pair of boxing gloves was laid out on the grass by her feet, along with a pair of black focus mitts, a sweat towel and a pair of iPhone speakers.

"Really, Lynn?" groaned Lincoln. "You're making me do  _boxing_? Haven't I suffered enough?"

Lynn just smiled and shook her head. "Not boxing, Lincoln.  _Boxercise._ "

"Boxer…cise?" parroted Lincoln, tilting his head in confusion. That just sounded like a fancier word for the same sport.

"Yeah! It's a cardio workout that has you  _mimicking_ the movements of a boxer." To demonstrate, Lynn threw a swift flurry of jabs and hooks, capped off with an uppercut. "So you get to feel like a champion, but you don't have to get hit!"

Lincoln's face lit up. "That… actually sounds pretty cool!"

"Oh,it  _is_ , bro," said Lynn. "Now go put those on and we can get started."

"Yes, ma'am!" exclaimed Lincoln. He snatched up the gloves and pulled them tight over his fists. They were a little tight, more than a little itchy and they had a pungent scent that he wouldn't describe as pleasant, but he told himself that he would get used to it as the day went on.

"All right, lookin' good! Let's get… wait, you  _did_ stretch before you got down here, right?"

Lincoln nodded. He remembered a few basic stretches from gym class- the lunge, the butterfly stretch and the half moon pose, to name a few- so he didn't need any help with that part of the routine.

"Awesome," said Lynn. "Now the first thing we gotta do is get you into the proper stance. Put your feet shoulder width apart."

He stood up straight, looked down at his feet, and adjusted them until they were (more or less) level with his shoulders.

"Good. Now step back with your right foot like this."

Lynn stepped back and shifted into a boxing stance, with her right foot perpendicular to her left. After looking her up and down a few times, Lincoln tried to mimic her posture.

"Like this?" he asked.

"Yeah, but bend your knees. And keep your left toes pointed forward."

She walked over to Lincoln and used her foot to nudge his into the proper position.

"There, that's better," she said. "Now, we gotta teach you how to punch."

"Oh, come on, Lynn," Lincoln said with a roll of his eyes. "Even I know how to do  _that_."

He took his left fist and threw a flimsy punch that stopped a couple inches away from Lynn's face. Lynn, who barely even flinched from the punch, just crossed her arms and hit Lincoln with a deadpan glare.

"…that bad, huh?" asked Lincoln, letting his fists flop down to his sides.

"Lincoln, you couldn't break  _glass_ with that punch!"

"Glash is actually surprithingly durable!" called a nasally voice from the second story window.

"Shut up, Lisa!" Lynn called back. "See, Lincoln, the problem is that you're just throwing your arm forward. You gotta put your whole body into it!"

She twisted her body forward as she threw a quick, sharp-looking left punch. "See? Like  _that_. Now you try."

Lincoln put his fists back up and threw another punch with his left, this time shifting his weight forward as he did. It didn't look as strong as Lynn's, but it was definitely an improvement.

" _Much_ better," said Lynn. "Gimme ten of those."

Lincoln proceeded to throw ten left punches, taking his time with each one.

"All right, good. Now, do you know the difference between a jab, a cross and a hook?"

Lincoln just gave her a blank stare. He was pretty sure he had heard those words before, but he wouldn't be able to tell one from the other.

"I didn't think so," she said, shifting into her boxing stance. "Here, lemme show you.

"First, you have the jab. A jab is a quick little high punch that you throw with your lead hand. It's basically what you were doing just now."

"Mm-hmm."

"Then you have the cross. AKA…"

Lynn raised her right arm and flexed her ample bicep.

"…the power punch."

Lincoln had to suppress a gasp upon seeing the size of her arm. Lynn usually preferred to wear long-sleeved shirts, even during the summer, so it was easy to forget just how…  _buff_ she was.

"For  _this_ punch, you're gonna use your rear hand."

Lynn demonstrated by throwing a few thunderous crosses. Though she was standing a few feet back from Lincoln, he still cringed at the sight; from his perspective, her crosses looked strong enough to smash concrete.

Lynn stopped punching as soon as she noticed Lincoln's reaction. "You okay, bro?" she asked, lowering her gloved fists just a tad. "I'm not scaring you, am I?"

"What? N-no, I'm fine," stammered Lincoln. "I was just- I was just- I don't know what I was. But I'm fine now."

"If you say so," Lynn said with a chuckle. "Anyway… where was I? Oh, yeah, hooks!"

Lynn put her fists back up. "A hook's a little more complicated. Instead of throwing your fist out straight, you sort of… whip it around. Like this."

Lynn threw a left hook with her lead hand, pivoting to the right as she did.

"Now  _these_ , you can throw with either hand," she added, throwing a few right hooks just to demonstrate. "Now you try. And remember to keep shifting your weight!"

Lincoln threw a flurry of left and right hooks, grunting loudly as he did.

"Easy, Lincoln," Lynn said, stifling a snicker. "Save your energy for the actual exercises."

Lincoln shrugged and gave his sister a sheepish smile. "Heh, sorry about that, Lynn. Guess I got a little carried away."

"It's okay," said Lynn. "Listen, if anything, I'm glad you're enjoying this, instead of trying to sneak off and play video games."

Lincoln's smile evaporated as his eyes sunk towards the ground. "Mom told you about that, huh?"

"Yeah, she did. But hey, if I got roped into doing power-walking at the mall with my dorky dad, I'd probably try to sneak off too."

The two of them shared a good, hardy laugh before moving on.

"Anyway," said Lynn, "there's one more punch we have to go over before we get started. Now, I assume you already know what an uppercut is."

"Sure do!" said Lincoln.

"Then let's see it!"

Lincoln grinned, eager to show Lynn that he knew at least  _something_ about fighting. He began by crouching down as low as he could and dropping his arm to his side. But just as he was about to propel himself upwards, Lynn stepped in and grabbed him by the wrist.

"Hold on there, Ryu. I asked for an uppercut, not a shoryuken."

Lincoln lost his smile and awkwardly shuffled back into the neutral position, muttering an apology as he did.

"Eh, you don't have to apologize," said Lynn. "Truth is,  _most_ people have no idea how to throw an uppercut. You remember my friend, Polly Pain?"

"Oh, geez, how could I forget?" asked Lincoln, rubbing his back. He was nursing his wounds for weeks after Polly roughed him up at the Sadie Hawkins dance.

"Well, one time I asked her to be my sparring partner, and it was just  _hilarious_. Her uppercut made her look like she was doing an impression of a windmill."

Just to demonstrate, she started swinging her arms around in wide, asymmetric circles, while pulling the silliest "derp" face she could manage. "Durr, nothin's gettin' by me!"

Her display left Lincoln rolling around on the grass, cackling uncontrollably. While his reaction tickled her at first, it only took about fifteen seconds before she started getting impatient.

"Come on, Linc. It wasn't  _that_ funny."

She bent down, grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him up onto his feet. Once standing, he took a few more moments to breathe, regain his composure, and shift back into his boxing stance.

"You done?" asked Lynn.

"Y-yeah," said Lincoln, letting a couple more errant giggles escape.

"Good. So now I'm going to show you the  _correct_ way to do an uppercut. Your body'll be doing the same motion it does for a cross or a hook, but instead of throwing your fist forward…"

Lynn thrusted her fist upward as she pivoted.

"…you just pop it up, like that. Now you try."

Lincoln mimicked her movements to the best of his ability, while trying to take her instructions to heart.  _Just pop it up_ , he said to himself.  _Like a… like a jack-in-the-box. Yeah, that works._

"How was that?" he asked.

"Good. But remember to keep your guard up."

Lincoln threw a few more uppercuts, this time while guarding his face with his free hand.

"Better," said Lynn. "Ready for the first drill?"

Lincoln gave his sister a cocky smirk and pounded his gloved fists together. "You bet your butt I am."

Lynn let out a nervous chuckle, unused to seeing such intensity from her little brother. "Gotta say, Linc, I'm liking the enthusiasm," she said. "Anyway, we're gonna start out with some command punches. I call out a punch, and you throw it. Sound simple enough?"

"Yeah."

"Then give me a jab!"

Lincoln nodded and threw his lead fist forward, remembering to pivot as he punched.

"Very good. Now, a cross!"

Lincoln reared back, let out an undignified grunt and thrust his back fist forward with all the force he could muster. The cross was, after all, his "power punch", so he figured he had to pack as much power into it as he possibly could.

"Um… okay. How about a right hook?"

With a cry of, "KIAI!" Lincoln took his same fist and swung it around like a mace, with such force that he nearly knocked himself off balance.

"Easy, Lincoln," said Lynn, letting another chuckle escape her lips. "This isn't a Bruce Lee movie. You don't have to go, 'Hi-ya!' every time you throw a punch."

Lincoln shrank away from Lynn, and a faint blush began to spread across his cheeks. "Oh."

"N-no, don't be embarrassed! It's just… if you use up all your energy screaming, you're not gonna have any left for punching.

"So give me another right hook, and this time try to keep your mouth shut and your feet planted."

Lincoln nodded, got back into position, and threw another hook, keeping his lips pursed together as he did. This one was less powerful, but more tightly controlled; the motion of the punch was more comparable to the crack of a whip than the swing of a flail.

" _That's_ what I'm talking about," said Lynn. "Now give me a left uppercut."

For the next few minutes, the drill continued without interruption. Lincoln continually reminded himself to keep his punches strong, but restrained, and to keep his feet in position. He knew that eventually he would stop having to remind himself, and that those habits would just come to him automatically; all the same, he had a long way to go before he reached that point.

"Okay, I think that's enough," Lynn said after the fortieth command punch. (Or was it fifty? Lincoln wasn't keeping track.) "The next drill we're gonna do is called the Five-Punch KO. You do two jabs, then a cross, then a left uppercut, then a right uppercut."

She demonstrated each step in rapid succession. Lincoln thanked his lucky stars that Lynn wasn't using the combo on him, or else he really  _would_ be knocked out.

"Then you repeat it over and over. Think you can handle that, champ?"

"Sure can!" said Lincoln. He got into his boxing stance and threw five punches, each of them slow and deliberate. "How was that?"

"Not bad. But pick up the pace."

Lincoln nodded and performed the sequence again, this time rushing through it. Unfortunately, he was so determined to get through the sequence quickly that he forgot to keep shifting his weight. It got to the point where it just looked like he was just flailing his arms in front of him.

"Time out, time out," said Lynn, grabbing him by the wrist mid-swing. "Now you're going  _too_ fast."

She took a step back and shifted back into her boxing stance. "You gotta hit that balance between power and speed," she explained, demonstrating the combo for Lincoln again. "It's a little tricky, but it helps if you get a rhythm down. Here, try this."

She reached into her pocket, took out her iPhone and plugged it into the pair of speakers that had been set up on the grass. After flipping through her iTunes app for a few seconds and hitting the play button, the speakers started blasting "X Gon' Give It to Ya" by DMX.

 _I still can't believe Mom lets her listen to that_ , thought Lincoln.

Lynn reassumed her position, put up her fists and started the combo again- this time punching along to the beat of the song.

" _One, and-a two, and-a one-two-three_ ," she chanted, each count punctuated by a stinging jab, a thundering cross or a sharp uppercut. "Now you try."

Lincoln nodded and tried the combo again, letting the song's percussion flow through him.  _One, and-a two, and-a one-two-three. Punch, punch, punch-punch-punch._ It almost felt like one of those rhythm games at the arcade that he and Ronnie Anne liked to play together. As he repeated the exercise, Lincoln imagined banners that read, "Excellent!" "Great" and, "Not bad!" hovering over his fists.

"Yeah, now you're getting it!" cheered Lynn. "Keep it up, partner!"

With every rep, Lincoln felt more and more exhilarated. The cool breeze of the wind pushing back against his fists, the bass and percussion sending shivers up and down his spine… this was  _fun_.

"You're a wreckin' machine, Linc!" Lynn said in an exaggerated rasp. Her compliment, as goofy as it was, gave Lincoln yet another surge of enthusiasm.  _Wrecking machine… I like the sound of that._

But once that boost wore off, Lincoln noticed that his breathing was becoming more labored, and his arms were getting just a little sore. On top of that, the harsh rays of the sun were starting to take their toll on his body; a few beads of sweat trickled down from his brow into his eyes, stinging them. In spite of this, he continued to soldier on, refusing to let Lynn see the slightest hint of weakness.

Mercifully, Lynn brought the drill to an end soon afterwards.

"All right, I think that's enough of that," she said. "Wanna take five, or go right to the next drill?"

"Let's keep going," Lincoln said without even a moment of hesitation. "I'm not even winded."

"That's the spirit, Linc!" Lynn said, beaming. "This next drill's called the Duck 'n' Weave. For this one, you're gonna need my help."

She untied her boxing gloves, ripped them off and tossed them aside. In their place, she slipped on the pair of focus mitts she had laid out earlier.

"See, now you're gonna be aiming for my mitts when you punch," she explained, holding her mitted hands out for Lincoln to see. "Here, lemme get a little closer."

Lincoln gulped as Lynn drew nearer. Her unshakable air of confidence, combined with her impressive musculature for someone her age, made her the last person Lincoln wanted to go toe-to-toe with. He had to keep reminding himself that it was just a training drill, and that she wasn't  _really_ going to pound him into the ground.

"So for this exercise, you're gonna start out with a jab, then a cross, then a jab, then a right hook. Why don't you try that right now?"

He nodded, put up his dukes and started plunging his fists deep into Lynn's waiting hands.

His jabs didn't even faze her, but he heard a small, girlish grunt of effort escape her when she blocked his cross and his hook.

"Not bad, partner," she uttered. "So after you throw the hook, I'm gonna take a swing at you, and you're gonna duck under it."

"All right, sounds- wait, you're gonna  _what_?!"

He reflexively threw his arms up over his head, eliciting a giggle from his big sister. "Lincoln, chill. I'm not going to swing hard. Plus, the whole point of the exercise is for you to  _dodge_ it. You can do that, can't you?"

Lincoln felt a pang of shame as he realized how foolish and cowardly he must have looked to her. In a desperate attempt to make up for it, he let down his arms, threw up his fists and put on the bravest, most defiant expression he could muster. "Yeah, I can do that. Let's go."

A split second after the word "go," he threw his first jab and proceeded to blaze through the combo in little more than a second. As soon as he delivered his right hook, he collapsed down into a squat. A moment later, he felt the light breeze caressing his hair, assumedly caused by Lynn's glove whiffing over his head.

"You got the right idea," she said, helping him back to a standing position. "But for the ducking, you don't need to go into a full squat. Just, you know, bend your knees a little."

"Gotcha," Lincoln grunted, keeping his game face on as he started the combo again. While his steps were awkward and delayed at first, it didn't take long for him to get into a steady groove. It helped that the DMX song was still stuck in his head, so he had a rhythm to follow. At the same time, though, it was getting increasingly difficult to hide the fact that he was wearing himself out. Searing pains were sprouting up and down his arm muscles, he had to struggle to keep the rhythm of the exercise going strong, and Lynn noticed that she was grazing top of his head with her swipes because he couldn't duck quickly enough. After one of her punches nearly collided with his face, she was starting to worry.

"Are you all right?" she asked, taking a step back. "We can take a break if you need one."

"I...I'm fine," Lincoln lied, forcing himself to stand up straight and resisting the urge to start wheezing. "But...uh... that exercise was getting kinda boring. Gimme the next one!"

"Well, if you say so," said Lynn, giving her brother a wary glance. "This next one's actually a lot of fun. It's a little something I like to call 'freestyle mode'."

"How's that work?" he asked.

"Just throw your punches any way you want to," she said with a grin. "Go for a knockout!"

The word "knockout" triggered a burst of adrenaline in Lincoln's system, and he exploded into a flurry of improvised punches.  _Jab. Left hook. Cross. Right hook. Jab. Jab. Left uppercut. Cross. Jab. Cross. Right hook. Jab. Right uppercut._ He began to imagine that nameless, anonymous goons were wandering into the way of his punches- and paying dearly for it. Every cross would send a goon sprawling out onto the grass below, and every uppercut would launch one into the air.

_You thought you could mess with me? Jab. Cross. Left uppercut. I'm Lincoln Loud. Cross. Right hook. Jab. Jab. I'm unstoppable. Cross. Cross. Cross. I'm not a chump. You're the chump. Left hook. Right uppercut. Left…_

Unfortunately, adrenaline rushes only last so long, and Lincoln's fatigue was getting harder and harder to ignore- though, heaven knows, he tried.  _Right uppercut. Cross… Jab… Jab. I'm not tired. I'm not even getting started. Left hook. Left uppercut… I could do this all day if I wanted to… Cross. Jab. Cross. Right hook… I'm a champion. Champions never quit._

While all this was going on, he heard Lynn's voice droning on unintelligibly in the background. "You…kay, Linc?…want to break…rest…too much… if you're tired…"

He just tuned her out.  _Jab…Cross…Right…Uppercut…I'm…not…weak…Left…Hook…Cross…Jab… I'm just…as good as…as…_

It was at this moment that Lincoln's body finally gave out. He threw one more flimsy, half-hearted punch before letting his fists drop to his sides, falling to his knees, collapsing face first onto the ground and passing out.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Lincoln awoke to the sensation of his soft, spongy mattress pressing against his back. He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by the four walls of his room, with Lynn's sneering face looking down at him.

"Have a nice nap, sleepyhead?" she asked.

"I...uh... what happened?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"You pushed yourself too hard, is what happened," she said, her snarky smirk replaced by a scolding frown. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting tired?"

"I... mmmf... I dunno..."

"You're gonna have to give me a better answer than that," chided Lynn, crossing her arms.

"Erggh...I said I dunno. Leave me 'lone."

"Lincoln, I want an explanation. I asked you several times if you wanted to take a break, and you said no.  _Why?"_

"Because I wanted to make you proud, okay?!" cried Lincoln, sitting up and snapping out of his exhausted stupor. "I... I wanted to prove that I could hang with you. That I could keep up with you."

Lynn's expression softened as her little brother's words sunk in. "Aw, Lincoln..."

She took a seat on the bed next to him and gently took his hand in hers. "First of all, of  _course_ I'm gonna have more stamina than you. I'm older than you and I've been exercising for way longer. You'll get better as long as you keep it up week after week."

She paused and wiped a few beads of sweat off of Lincoln's brow before continuing. "Second of all, you don't have to prove  _anything_ to me. I'm not going to think less of you just because you're not as fit as me. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. And third of all..."

A smile broke out across her face, and her grip tightened. "...I  _am_ proud of you. You did great today. You followed my instructions, you didn't complain, and you gave a hundred and ten percent. I couldn't have asked for anything more."

Lincoln broke out into a smile of his own. "Thanks, Lynn."

"No prob, little bro."

With that, she threw her arm around his shoulder, pulled him close... and promptly pushed him off the bed and shoved him towards the door.

"Now go take a shower. You smell like whale taint."


End file.
